


martyrdom is the easy way out

by woppetry



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: And has a bad sense of humour, Fix-It, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, It's harder to be a good dad if you're not dead, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Trying to match the movie tonally makes it really hard to progress the plot, everyone's an asshole, the vaguest possible medical treatment, yet another yondu doesn't die fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-16
Packaged: 2018-11-13 11:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11184501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woppetry/pseuds/woppetry
Summary: The thing about growing up entirely removed from your culture and species is that sometimes your ability to survive the vacuum of space surprises you.The other thing about growing up entirely removed from your culture and species is that you have absolutely no frame of reference for how Good Parenting should work.And sometimes this has consequences.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yondu's not quite dead and Rocket kinkshames.

Silence fell on what was left of the ravager ship, as Peter and Yondu came tumbling through the airlock and the guardians realised, with a growing dread, that Peter was _crying._ He was sobbing and shouting, clutching desperately at the frozen body of the ship’s captain, seemingly unaware of the other presences in the room.

“You son of a bitch you can’t fucking die on me now I hate you.” Peter took a shuddering breath. “You don’t get to die now I _just_ got you, you selfless prick, I fucking hate you- _fuck_.” He looked up and around at the other guardians but they didn’t know what to say. Wordlessly, Gamora knelt down beside Peter and placed a hand on his shoulder. She could feel his body shaking. “He was my dad.” Peter said in a small voice. “I only just realised. All this time… He was looking out for me… And I hated him.” Peter’s voice cracked as the tears fell from his eyes and he turned his face away from his crew, cradling Yondu’s body. “I hated him.”

At the back of the room, Mantis crept towards Drax, rubbing the lump on the back of her head with a pained expression on her face. “I don’t understand.” She whispered, taking in the scene before her. “Why is Peter grieving? Yondu Udonta is not dead.”

Drax’s head whipped round. “What?” He spoke with his usual booming voice and suddenly the room’s attention was on them. “How can you tell?”

Mantis glanced nervously around at the pairs of eyes now trained on her before looking back to Drax. “His emotions.” She said hesitantly, “I can feel them. Dead men do not have emotions.”

“I thought your abilities were touch based.” Gamora said, suddenly standing and facing Mantis with an intense expression in her eyes. Behind her, Peter head had shot up, hope dawning in his face.

Mantis shrugged. “Ordinarily yes, but Yondu Udonta is of a race with empathic abilities of their own.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as her antennae began to glow softly. “I can feel them. They are weak but they are everywhere. Like a mist.” She took another breath and opened her eyes, looking directly at Peter. “He is so proud of you.”

For a moment everything was silent as the group exchanged shocked glances, until Rocket suddenly jumped into action. “Well, what are we waiting for?” He snapped, placing Groot on his shoulder for safekeeping. “Kraglin! You gotta have some kind of medical bay on this hunk of junk, help me get ‘im there! We can still save him!” Rocket tugged ineffectively on Yondu’s boot but the point was made. Behind him, Kraglin made eye contact with Peter and they nodded at each other, their expressions moving from grief to determination. With a grunt, Peter lifted Yondu up from the floor, but stumbled for a moment under his weight until Kraglin went to catch him.

“Why don’t you get the big guy to carry him?”

Peter shook his head. “No way. I don’t trust Drax not to bash his head on something.”

Drax let out a booming laugh. “Yes! That is a fair assumption of what would happen.”

The two men shuffled awkwardly with Yondu’s body, trying unsuccessfully to find the most comfortable position to hold him in, until Gamora let out a sigh of frustration and snatched the blue man from them, carrying him with ease. Peter made a face and she raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Which way to the medical bay.” She said flatly. It was not a question.

“It’s not far from here- it’s just down this corridor and then down the stairs on your left. It should have everything we need.” Gamora nodded and set off down the hallway. Rocket rolled his eyes and ran after her, overtaking her stride in his hurry to be the first to the medical bay.

Kraglin stared at Peter wide eyed. “Holy crap Quill, is she your girl?” he said in an awed whisper.

Peter smiled softly at Gamora’s retreating form. “Maybe? There’s something there. We don’t really speak about it.” Kraglin let out a low whistle as they set off after her and Peter felt his ears go red.

“She’s really something.”

 *

In the medical bay Rocket had wasted no time in hooking Yondu up to the monitor machines. As Peter stepped through the doors he looked at Rocket’s urgent pace in awe. He was surprised to see Rocket working himself into such a frenzy over Yondu.

Yondu… didn’t look good. His skin was still coated with ice crystals and was turning black in places. Where his skin wasn’t black it was far paler than the vibrant blue Peter was used to. Peter cleared his throat.

“So… How’s he doing?”

Rocket grunted as he shoved an IV into the vein in Yondu’s forearm. He hopped down off the bed and scrabbled around with the wiring of a strange looking machine which he angled towards Yondu’s unconscious body. He flicked the switch and the machine hummed into life, warming the air around it. “I’m not gonna lie to ya Quill, he’s been better.” Rocket finally said with a sigh. “Lucky for you, this ship’s more-or-less got all the tools for treating mild exposure to the vacuum of fucking space. Now, normally I’d say spending five minutes out there without a spacesuit would make you a goner- fancy medical supplies be damned.” Peter’s expression dropped a fraction and Rocket quickly hurried on. “But! Somehow- and I don’t know how- your old man’s still kicking. Doing surprisingly well actually. His outside’s gonna hurt like a bitch and he might end up with some more nasty scars- but on the inside he’s all there. I don’t know what Centaurians are made of but it’s tough as hell.”

Peter huffed a small, watery laugh. “Yeah. That sounds like Yondu.”

Rocket bared his teeth in a grin. “Alright, now that you’re here, fetch me that tub that’s up there on the top shelf.” Peter scanned his eyes around the grimy medical bay until he saw the tub that Rocket meant. He was sure that the raccoon could get it himself if he really tried- he was a much better climber than Peter was and the shelf was just a little too high for even Peter to reach. Still, after a minute of struggle that ended in Peter nearly toppling the shelf of medical supplies onto both Rocket and his patient, Peter decided not to press the issue. Rocket was already working really hard for Yondu, and it wasn’t like anyone else on the ship had even the faintest idea of how to treat vacuum chills.

“Great, now open it up and spread it all over his skin.”

Peter made a disgusted face. “What? Why can’t you do it?”

Rocket snorted and held up his paws. “You see these hands? You see how they’re covered in fur that’s gonna get really gross the second they touch that stuff? You see your hands? And how they’re all fleshy and waterproof and easy to clean?”

“Ugh. Fine.” Peter grimaced and opened the tub with a passive-aggressive _pop_. His eyes bulged as the pungent smell of the ointment reached his nose and he had to hold back a gag as he reached in and scooped out a healthy dollop of grey goo. “Where abouts does this stuff need to go?”

“Basically anywhere that looks frostbitten or a little darker blue than usual. Which is… ugh… Pretty much everything not under his coat? I don’t know, have at it, Quill.”

Gingerly, Peter reached out with an ointment covered hand and began to smear it on the top of Yondu’s head. Rocket began to snicker and Peter fixed him with a glare.

“I want you to know that this is weird for me. This?” He gestured at Yondu with an ointment covered hand. “Is really fucking weird.”

Rocket laughed. “It’s only weird if you make it weird. This is quality dad time right here.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “See, that’s weird too.” Rocket gave him a quizzical look and he sighed deeply, rubbing at his eyelids with his clean hand. “It’s like- I leave the ravagers and spend like five years on the run from this guy, right? and then suddenly he shows up when my real, actual father’s trying to use me as a battery! And then, it turns out that Yondu was the good guy all along because he didn’t want my dad to murder me? He helps me kill my father and then right before he tries to _die for me_ he calls himself my daddy!”

Rocket snorts and Peter points a gooey finger at him. “Hey. Shut up. He’s old, he doesn’t get that that’s weird.”

Rocket cackled. “I’m sorry, I’m just- I’m trying to picture it. It’s all dramatic and heartwarming and then he’s like: “I’m yer daddy, Quill.” How did you- how did you keep a straight face?”

“That’s not how it happened! God, you’re so- It was the _last_ thing on my mind at the time, okay?” Rocket continues to laugh and Peter chucks the ointment lid at him. “I will smear this shit all over your fur, I swear to God.”

That shuts him up, but Peter still hears the occasional snicker that he tries his best to ignore.

Finally, when the last of Yondu’s blackened skin is covered in gunk, and the ointment put safely away, Peter stands and makes his way over to the yellowing sink in the corner of the medical bay to wash his hands. Rocket watches him go, a calculating expression on his face.

“Listen,” He begins carefully, and Peter whirls round to face him, leaning against the sink. “I know this has probably been a really rough couple of days for you, what with all the gaining and losing of dads but- whatever happens- we’re still here for you, yeah?”

Peter smiled at him and his eyes were so earnest that Rocket nearly turned tail and ran right there. “Thanks Rocket.” His voice was thick with emotion. “That means a lot.” Peter’s eyes drifted over to where Yondu lay sleeping and he sighed. “I just- I wish I knew what was going through his head.”

Peter turned to leave but just before he did, Rocket grabbed his sleeve. “Peter,” He began gruffly. “Yondu’s an asshole. But so am I. And so’s Gamora and Drax and- hell- even Groot. If it turns out that Yondu’s not up for being your daddy when he doesn’t have a death wish then we’ll give him hell for you, yeah? Us assholes’ gotta stick together.”

Peter laughed softly. “Gross.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> Comments = Love <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yondu wakes up and an empath is a Ravager's worst nightmare.

Yondu is not so much eased into consciousness as dragged and thrown headfirst into it. The first sensation he’s aware of is a harsh, stinging pain that stretches from the base of his fin down to his fingertips, pulling aches out of old wounds that had been numb for years. He groans and curls onto his side, letting out a string of harsh curses that could give even the hardiest Ravager pause.

As it is, no hardy Ravagers hear him. Instead, the first face that greets him is the unnervingly blank expression of Ego’s bug girl. Yondu had met her three times before he’d finally caught on to Ego’s scheme and her presence at his bedside doesn’t exactly fill Yondu with confidence.

He scrambles into an upright position, blinking dark spots away from his vision, and schools his features into something that he hopes is controlled and intimidating. Something that doesn’t betray his weakened state or the current confusion he’s feeling at being _alive_ -

In a flash, the memories come rushing back to him. The sovereign. The mutiny. Fighting Ego. The spacesuit he gave to Quill- Yondu pauses. _Quill_.

He feels an adrenaline that never quite left run through his veins, the same stumble-in-the-dark feeling that he gets every time he wakes up after being knocked unconscious or drinking so much he blacks out.

How was he still alive? The choice had been clear at the time- it was him or Quill. And if he was still here then that meant that Peter was-

In an instant, Yondu is on his feet, stumbling over wires on weak legs and tugging his arm free from the IV, which begins to bleed.

The girl looks panicked as the blood trickles down his arm and puts a hand up to steady him, but he recoils from her touch with a snarl.

“Where’s Peter.” Yondu snaps, grabbing at his bleeding arm with a grimace. “That sonofabitch better not have gotten himself killed.”

He spits the words like he’s angry but he can hear his heartbeat thudding like a jackhammer in his ears.

The girl- Mantis- Yondu’s brain supplies, looks concerned. Her features crumple into something unsettling and she reaches forward to touch him. “You must not strain yourself.” She says softly. “You should be resting.”

Yondu may not have much experience with her species but he knows that Ego kept her for a reason and he vaguely remembers her doing something to Ego during the battle that put him under. Like hell is Yondu gonna let her touch him now.

“Where. Is the boy.” He says through gritted teeth, backing up further and ignoring the spots that dart in front on his eyes the longer he stays standing.

“Quill’s fine.” Yondu’s head darts up as Rocket’s voice enters the room. He stands propped against the rusted doorframe, arms folded, and looking thoroughly unimpressed. “Now sit down unless you want to get yourself killed. Again.”   

Yondu’s eyes dart suspiciously between Rocket and Mantis and he sits himself down on the cot heavily, the springs groaning and creaking in protest. His eyes never lose their calculating edge.

“There. Feeling better?” Rocket is patronising him but Yondu finds he is too tired to care. “Because we’ve gotta get that IV back in your arm. Seriously, what kind of idiot rips his IV out? When has that _ever_ been a good move?!”

Yondu clenches his jaw irritably but says nothing as Rocket hops onto the bed and injects the IV drip back into his arm. The rat seems incapable of shutting up and continues to babble on about how much of an idiot Yondu is. Behind him, Mantis stares unblinkingly at Yondu, and he would be lying if he said it wasn’t making him uncomfortable. He holds eye contact with her for a moment, hoping she’ll look away. She doesn’t.

In the end, it’s Yondu who breaks eye contact first and looks down to where Rocket is wrapping his forearm in medical tape (“Try and rip this one out, fucking moron.”) Yondu clears his throat.

“So- uh. What’d I miss? Last I remember I was dyin’.”

Rocket snorts. “Well, you gave it your best shot. We all thought you _were_ dead. Peter was crying all over you and everything.” Yondu’s not sure how he feels about that. “Probably would’ve left you for dead if Mantis here hadn’t picked up on your weird Centaurian emotion thing or whatever it was.”

“My what now?”

“Some empath thing. I don’t know. Point is, I’ve never seen anyone last that long out in the vacuum without a suit. I would’ve shoved you through the incinerator no questions asked, but now you’re here and up and yelling at people not twenty hours later. It’s crazy!”

Yondu blinks. “How long was I out there?”

Rocket shrugs and goes to check the monitors. “I’d say about five minutes, freakishly long time to survive, if you ask me.”

Yondu nods thoughtfully. He knew all too well the effects that deep space could have on a man. It differed from species to species, of course, but- more often than not- men were hauled back in after their ship had shattered with missing fingers and toes, their features blackened and flaking. On one memorable occasion Yondu had attempted to “keelhaul” a Xandarian crew member, a particularly nasty piece of work who picked fights with every crewmember-the captain included- and threw his weight around in the ports, harassing local girls and leading to several unruly Incidents on days that should have been opportunities for the crew to relax and blow off steam. He’d meant for it to be a warning- a minute in the vacuum before the crew hauled him back in, but the idiot had started screaming. His weak, peachy Xandarian skin turned purple and then black as the air left his lungs and they collapsed in on themselves, expelling frothy pink fluid out into the darkness of Space. He was dead before thirty seconds were up. In the end, Yondu had given the order to cut him loose, and the body had drifted out towards the Antolian Nebula. The whole crew agreed that they were better off without him and Yondu wasted no time feeling guilty- but it hadn’t been his intention.

He almost felt it would have been fitting to die out in the vacuum, floating amongst the stars like all but one of his loyal crew members. But he was alive and- Yondu glances down at his fingers (blackened, but all still there)- for some reason, relatively unharmed.  

Rocket is speaking again and Yondu blinks back to attention. “-so you’re probably going to be feeling pretty shitty for like the next month but you’re gonna live. And, I swear, if you get out of this bed again before you’re ready I’m not fixing you up again- hey!”

Rocket’s tirade is rudely interrupted as Yondu presses his blue hand into Rocket’s face and stands up, pushing him out of the way and onto the floor. “Pipe down Rat, I’m conscious aint I? I’m good to go.”

Rocket splutters, outraged, from where he’d landed amongst cables and rolls of yellowed gauze and Yondu fixes him with a glare. “Ravagers aint big on bed rest.”

He sets to work at freeing himself from the layers of medical tape Rocket had encased his arm in while Rocket stands, fuming.

“You ungrateful- You’re unbelievable!” Rocket reaches up, trying to pry Yondu’s hands away from the IV in his arm and Yondu shoots him a warning look. Instinctively, his lips purse and he lets out a shrill whistle.

But nothing happens.

A smirk settles on Rocket’s features. “Not so tough without your magic stick, huh?”

“I don’t need my arrow to beat yer ass, Rat.”

They glare at each other for a moment, neither one backing down. There’s a static-y ringing in Yondu’s ears and a creeping darkness at the edge of his vision that he’s ignoring. He doesn’t have time to sleep. After everything that happened he has things to do- he has to check on his ship, he has to make sure Kraglin and Quill made it out okay. His crew may have been destroyed in a mutiny but he was still a captain, dammit, and a captain had responsibilities. A captain didn’t lie down while someone else sorted out his messes, a captain powered through until there was nothing left to do and no one to watch a moment of weakness.

It’s Mantis who breaks the silence of their standoff. Yondu had almost forgotten she was there.

“You are worried.” She says quietly, looking from Rocket to Yondu with a delicate frown between her brows. “You are worried for Peter and your ship and the other one-”

“Kraglin?” Rocket supplies, a shit-eating grin leeching onto his face.

“Yes!  You do not wish to rest because you are worried about them.”

Yondu made an outraged face and turned on her. “What ‘chu talking ‘bout? I aint worried! I just don’t want to be stuck in this shitty med-bay all day!” With one last tug, he tears the medical tape from his arm, and with it the IV.

“Seriously?!” Rocket shouts.  

“But you must rest!” Mantis stares up at him with wide eyes. “You are in pain, you are still so weak-”

“ _Weak_?!” Yondu roars, “I’ll show ya weak!”

He takes a threatening step towards her but just as his foot touches the ground Mantis’ antennae glow softly and Yondu’s eyes roll back into his head. He hits the ground with an anticlimactic _thud._  

Rocket bursts out laughing. “Serves you right, dickhead. Nice work Mantis.”

Mantis shakes her head. “It was not fully me. He was already nearly unconscious. My ability just suggested it.” She shrugs, “I do not think I would be able to do it normally without touching him.”

Rocket laughs. “Eh, close enough. Come on, let’s go get Peter and tell him his daddy did something other than snore.”

He walks towards the door and Mantis looks startled. “You mean- We are going to leave him here?”

Rocket waves a dismissive paw. “I told him I wouldn’t fix him up again, he brought this on himself. He’s got two other guys on this ship who give more than a rat’s ass about him, we can get one of them to deal with him.”

Mantis nods and follows him out the door, casting one last, worried look at Yondu, sprawled out on the iron floor of the medical bay.

*

The Ravager ship was built more for function than anything else. This meant that large areas of it were unfurnished and bare, exposed pipes and wiring dangling from the ceiling. It creaked and groaned in solar storms and there were any number of hissing, clanging surfaces capable of burning, scalding or electrocuting without warning. Mantis is unused to this rougher, dirtier side to space travel. Everything on Ego’s planet had been carefully controlled and managed for the perfect celestial aesthetic. The few times they had travelled off-planet, his spaceship had been bright and streamlined, it’s inner mechanisms concealed.

The Ravager ship scares her. It’s dark and loud and dangerous- all things she never encountered with Ego- but at the same time it excites her. Everything new and strange is another thing she can learn about. The long, echoing corridors increase the sounds of the engines but they also amplify the distant sounds of her new friends’ voices. She had become used to silence and as she and Rocket grow closer to the soft sounds of conversation she realises what she had been missing.

Mantis stays close to Rocket as he jogs down the corridor, keeping a wide berth from the vents and clouds of steam that escape from the pipes. She’s confused almost all of the time around these new people but, she thinks, maybe for the first time she is happy.

As they round the corner, the conversation slows to a halt and all eyes turn to face them. Rocket seems unaffected and immediately goes to sit in one of the swivel chairs that face the dark expanses of space.

“Quill!” He calls, and Peter turns away from where he had been speaking with Gamora and Kraglin. “Your daddy’s awake- or no, he _was_ awake, and then he passed out because he’s an idiot who threw a hissy fit instead of accepting medical help.”

Peter pinches the place between his eyes in exasperation. “Will you stop calling him that? It’s getting old, dude.”

Rocket grins, “Not a chance.” He stretches his arms behind his head and swings his feet over the arms of the chair. “Anyway, he’s passed out on the floor and I’ve had enough of that guy for one day.”

“Rocket! What the hell, you can’t just leave him on the floor!”

Rocket shrugs, “Eh, you guys can handle it. I patched him up once already and he immediately fucked that up, so it’s your turn now. He’ll probably even wake up if you shake him.”

Peter and Kraglin exchange a frustrated glance and Mantis chooses this moment to speak up.

“He did not want to stay in bed. He was worried about you.” She looks between Peter and Kraglin. “Both of you.”  

The frustration in Peter’s gaze half melts into something more nervous that Mantis doesn’t recognise. She almost wants to reach out and touch him so that she can understand the feeling, but she doubts he would appreciate that. She’s come to learn that most people on this ship do not like their emotions read without permission.

Peter runs a hand through his hair and glances between Kraglin and the door, looking in the direction of the medical bay. “Hey Kraglin?” He says, uncertainly, “Why don’t you handle this one? You can give the Captain the rundown on everything that’s happened since he’s been out.”

Behind him, Gamora looks concerned and even Rocket looks confused, but Kraglin just nods once and vacates the pilot’s seat, which Peter quickly claims, staring staunchly ahead as he check’s their course, avoiding the puzzled gazes of his friends.

This was what he liked about Kraglin- and about Ravagers as a whole- they knew how not to talk about feelings.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments! I hope I can live up to expectations!  
> Also I went and watched GOTG2 for the second time and I'm very glad I did because it made me realise just how hilarious Kraglin is as a character so expect some more of him in the upcoming chapters.  
> I mentioned keelhauling in this chapter- for those who don't know, keelhauling was a nasty punishment both by pirates and for the crime of piracy, where the unfortunate sailor was tied to a rope that looped under the ship, and dragged under the keel from one side to the other, where they would get cut up by barnacles that accumulate on the underside of ships. I thought it would be cool if there was a Space-pirate equivalent where someone was exposed to the vacuum of space.


End file.
